


feels better biting down

by irisnebula



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Post-Canon, Public Sex, Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisnebula/pseuds/irisnebula
Summary: For Adora and Catra, making appearances at balls and galas has become second-nature. Still, Catra finds ways to keep things interesting.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 202





	feels better biting down

**Author's Note:**

> title from "biting down" by lorde

“There,” Adora said, pulling the tie straight.

“Do I look dapper?” Catra asked, cocking a crooked grin and striking a ridiculous pose against the hood of the car. The parking lot was dotted with people and couples and groups, all doing their best to out-quirk each other. They streamed in brightly colored groups towards the hotel ballroom.

Still pushing the old-timey act, Catra held out her arm to Adora like a proper gentleman. With a soft laugh, Adora linked her arm with Catra’s, and together they let themselves be carried by the tide of well-dressed diplomats through the parking lot. The night air was cool and anticipatory, like it placed some level of importance on this evening that they were yet to discover.

Inside, a violin was playing as the diplomats and the princesses and the like did the musical chairs-style dance of hellos and oh-it's-been-so-long-how-have-you-beens. Catra kept her arm linked in Adora’s as Adora went through and played her part, greeting the people she’d fought with one time or another or had been to a gala with, that one time, with those insane ice statues? Adora did remember, and Catra did too; she loved to hear the anecdotes and complaints about work. After so many years of constant challenge and excitement, there was something quietly lovely about the day-to-day minutiae of helping the world rebuild.

Tonight, though, she kept sneaking glances at Adora with something hard to read in her eyes. Adora couldn’t pin down the expression, not really, but it was sharp— similar to the way Catra looked at the puzzles they’d piece together on the kitchen table, or maybe the way she watched Adora cook a meal she seemed particularly excited for. That might have been it: hungry. Well. They’d serve dinner eventually.

They mingled for a while longer, Catra mostly nodding and adding in some joke or another as Adora chatted up the other artists. They even, briefly, got a moment with the guest of honor, a young, visibly queer woman whose birthday this event was celebrating. They knew each other through Perfuma, but this woman had obviously left the lifestyle of Plumeria aside for something a little more modern. Her dress was low-cut, with cleavage visible, and she laughed at Adora’s responses even when she wasn’t trying to be funny. She kept touching Adora’s shoulder. On the other arm, Adora could feel Catra’s grip tighten.

Soon enough, though, they were whisked away, as the host was swept into other discussions, and Catra very eagerly tugged Adora away, out of the ballroom, into a side hallway stacked with chairs. It was quiet out here; they seemed to be the only two to have found it.

“You okay?” Adora asked, because the look in Catra’s eyes was strange.

In lieu of a response, Catra stared at Adora for a moment, looking her up and down and up and down again. Then she pressed Adora against the wall, brushed a strand of colorful hair away from her face, and kissed her hard.

Catra tasted the same way she always did: spit and chapstick, and the bland toothpaste she still used from their childhood in the Horde. She kissed hot and fast, and she buried her hand in Adora’s hair and tugged gently, which felt… well, it felt very nice. It was easy to fall into this familiar rhythm of kissing and touching, a dance they’d done countless times before. Catra kissed her way across Adora’s cheek and over to her ear, gently licking the shell and nipping at her earlobe.

“What’s up?” Adora said, somewhere between giggling and gasping. It was difficult to form a sentence, with Catra’s lips and teeth doing their best to take her apart.

Kissing her once more, decisively, on the mouth, Catra pulled back. Her pupils were blown wide, and she looked a little bit dizzy. There was pink lipstick on her chin that she definitely hadn’t applied herself. She grinned, a cocky thing, and said, “You look nice.”

“You do too,” Adora responded. The response, at this point, was as much an impulse as anything, but she did. The suit pants hugged her legs, and the shirt nipped in at the waist, and Adora knew what underwear she had on, and she looked every inch like she belonged here, at this party, or maybe at a party a century earlier, gripping one of those long cigarette holders and toying at the end of it with her tongue.

That train of thought, of any sort of tongue-based toying, felt dangerous. There were appearances to be upheld, and as much as Adora wanted to take her apart, right here in this hallway, she definitely needed to be at this party with all of her clothes on and no bruises on her neck. Catra nodded as Adora glanced back towards the door. She, of all people, knew the value of doing what you were expected to do. But the hungry look in her eyes hadn’t faded, not really, and Adora got a feeling somewhere in the Venn diagram of being nervous, amused, and aroused at the idea that Catra was most definitely planning something.

She held up the phone while Adora reapplied her lipstick and carefully wiped the smudges from her chin and cheeks with a spit-covered thumb. Adora wiped the lipstick from her mouth and chin, too; this was a dance they’d done before, plenty of times. Catra tugged at her collar, and then they were as presentable as they were going to get. Still, Adora noted all of the little details: the strand of hair out of place, the flush in her cheeks, those pupils still not quite back down to size.

They returned to the room, arm in arm, and Adora did her best to look like she wanted to be here, and not being fucked within an inch of her life literally anywhere else. It was sort of a losing game, but she managed to engage in some absent chatter with more acquaintances. Bow was always talking about networking, but right about now, it seemed pretty overrated. Still, though, she tried. Thankfully, soon enough, someone who looked like an authority went on the mic system and told them all to find seats, since dinner was going to be served soon.

After the rush of seat-finding settled down, Adora and Catra ended up at one of the small tables that might have just been a really big spool with a floor-length tablecloth on top of it. It was just the two of them, alone in the eye of this storm of a dinner party. Well, not quite alone. There were other people around. Like, a truly irritating number of other people, because Catra kept making _eyes_ at her, and if they had this place to themselves… Well.

Absolutely not helping manners, Catra’s hand had found its way to Adora’s leg, and she was rubbing small circles onto her inner thigh with a thumb. It was driving her absolutely insane. Time seemed to be moving incredibly slowly, and it seemed like years might have to pass before Adora could get back to their apartment, or to the car, or literally anywhere that she could take care of the growing sensitivity between her legs. Preferably with Catra’s help, but honestly, she wasn’t feeling picky at this point.

Perceptive as always, Catra caught her eye from across the table and her hand stilled on Adora’s thigh, resting atop it underneath the tablecloth. The hum of chatter from all sides swallowed up her quiet question: “Too much?”

“That’s literally the exact opposite of the problem,” Adora muttered. Not enough. Not anywhere near enough.

Catra’s eyebrows scrunched up for a minute, and she glanced around with a thoughtful expression. Adora knew that face: it was the “I-think-I-have-an-idea” face. She looked back to Adora, and now her expression was different: sharp and hungry. Adora could feel her cheeks warm. Despite the dress and the makeup she was wearing, Catra’s eyes made her feel very, very naked.

“Do you trust me?” Catra asked, which was an incredibly silly question. Adora nodded without even pausing to think. “Okay. Then be very, very quiet, and take out your phone.”

“What are you gonna…”

Catra pulled her phone out from the suit’s pocket, tapped it twice, and made a pointed face at Adora until she fished out her own phone from her bag and waved it through the air. With what must have been an attempt at subtlety, Catra dragged her utensil setting to the side of the table with her elbow, and then shoved it off. She feigned surprise, put up a hand as if to excuse herself, and then crouched down on the ground. Adora had no idea what she was doing, and craned over the table to try and see where she’d crawled off to, but there was no sight of her. Instead, Adora’s phone buzzed.

_catra: i have an idea but if you hate it tell me to stop and i will. okay?_

_catra: text me i mean_

_catra: i’m serious about the being quiet thing_

Dork.

_adora: What are you gonna do?_

_catra: you’ll see just promise you’ll tell me if it’s too much??_

Adora glanced around, to make sure Catra wasn’t to grab a microphone and make a declaration of love. Neither of them had been drinking, so it seemed unlikely, but the way she was talking brought it into the realm of possibility. Still, no sight of her.

_adora: Okay??_

_catra: oh also if the waiter comes i want the salad and i’m in the bathroom_

_adora liked a message_

As soon as she’d thumbs-upped the message, she felt a hand on her leg, underneath the table, and just about had a heart attack. For a moment, she froze, briefly convinced that it was definitely a ghost and she was definitely going to die. But she recognized those hands, would recognize them anywhere, and she pretty immediately realized where Catra had gone. Holy shit. Okay.

At first, Catra wasn’t doing anything more explicit than she had been when she was still sitting at the table. She ran her hands up and down Adora’s thighs, gently dragging her blunt nails over the now-exposed skin from where she must have hiked up Adora’s skirt. Almost immediately, Adora was very, very grateful for the long tablecloths they’d chosen for the party. Then, Catra started to kiss up one thigh and down the other, and Adora was only grateful for that.

Chills went down her spine at the light, teasing way Catra was touching her, skipping over the places she must have known Adora really wanted to be touched. After a few seconds or minutes or hours, Catra licked across her inner thigh, right next to the seam of her panties, and it took everything in her not to whine at the sensation. Instead, she stared at the menu, reading the words “side salad” over and over again while Catra teased her under the table.

She was wet, had been for a while, and she could feel it against the nice underwear she’d put on earlier. She had the feeling that they weren’t going to be on for much longer, but right now, Catra was still kissing and licking and probably marking up her thighs, and she was still trying to look like a sane person, and not like someone who was deeply and immensely turned on. Then, Catra dragged a thumb over her clit, and though there was still a layer of (very expensive) fabric between Catra’s hand and Adora’s skin, it took absolutely everything in Adora’s power not to buckle, or twitch, or just give up and start moaning in front of all of these very fancy Alliance people.

As if her mind was being read, Adora’s phone buzzed on the table with another message from Catra.

_catra: shhhh_

She pulled her thumb back, and Adora immediately mourned its absence. But almost immediately after, Catra was circling her clit through the fabric with her _tongue_. Absently, Adora wondered if Catra could taste her, if she’d gotten wet enough that it had soaked all the way through the fabric. Given how turned on she felt, it seemed a real possibility. Catra wasn’t helping matters. She spread Adora’s legs apart with her hands, and Adora couldn’t help but picture the way she must have looked under the table.

She must have been sitting on her legs, hands on Adora’s thighs, pupils swallowing the hazel of her eyes. She must have been flushed, must have had that electricity in her eyes that she always got when she was taking Adora apart. She was probably— definitely wet, too, in that nice black underwear Adora had watched her put on earlier. She’d probably unbuttoned her suit, and maybe she could see her nipples, hard through the white button-down Catra had refused to wear a bra underneath. Her hands on Adora, her tongue on Adora.

Once again, Catra paused in her repetitive movements, but this time it was only for a second, because Adora felt her chin brushing against her as she… must have been pulling Adora’s panties off with her teeth. Absolutely ridiculous. She guided them the rest of the way off with her hands. Adora could feel the cold air against her, and she felt, right now, incredibly naked. She couldn’t help but glance around, as Catra, out of view, stripped her.

One of the other guests, from another table, caught her eye and smiled. At that exact moment, Catra pushed two fingers inside of her, and Adora almost screamed. In that instant, that one moment of unexpected fullness, she must have made a ridiculous face. But a heartbeat later, she schooled her expression into a pleasant, close-mouthed smile, and nodded. Then she turned back to the safety of the menu, as Catra’s fingers fucked into her beneath the table. That familiar ache started to build before Catra even put her mouth on her; she was so fucking turned on. She could feel Catra’s nimble fingers arcing inside of her, pulling her open, hitting her in the tender spots that made her, despite her surroundings, squirm.

With what must have been the other hand, Catra lit up Adora’s phone with another text.

_catra: i bet anyone at this stupid dinner would love to touch you like this_

_catra: they were all staring, earlier_

_catra: but only i get to fuck you :)_

Finally, _finally_ , Catra put her mouth on Adora. For just a second, she had to close her eyes, as Catra licked a steady rhythm against her already-swollen clit. It felt… well, it felt really fucking good. It felt like she was going to explode, or shout, or embarrass them both and ruin some valuable networking connections in some other terrible way. Somehow, though, she managed to keep silent, to keep staring at the menu, clutching it so tight that the edges crumpled in her grasp. Pleasure arched through her, but she managed to stay composed. She thanked any deity that was listening for the thick layer of makeup that was hopefully hiding the blush that she could feel burning through her body.

God, practice really did make perfect. Catra knew all of the ways to twist her tongue that, under normal circumstances, would have Adora bucking or begging. 

“What can I get for you?” said a voice from above, and Catra didn’t stop.

Adora thought unsexy thoughts: side salad, side salad, side salad. She cleared her throat once, twice, and then said, “Uh, I’ll have the… poultry and potatoes. My partner here,” she gestured to Catra’s empty seat, “is going to have a salad.”

“And will that be with chicken?” Catra was fucking her, fucking her, fucking her, and she totally was doing this on purpose, speeding up and slowing down and driving Adora absolutely insane.

“No, thank you.”

The waitress nodded, jotted down their orders, and Adora almost relaxed, but then the woman asked, “Anything to drink?” and Adora almost committed a murder, or possibly came. Thankfully, she managed to do neither, and just shook her head until the waitress grabbed their menus and walked away.

She texted Catra.

_adora: You’re evil_

Horrifyingly, Catra stopped immediately; pulled her fingers out and her head away. Adora wanted to scream.

_catra: you okay?_

_adora: I didn’t mean stop!!!!!!_

_catra: okay :)_

This time, Catra pushed a third finger in. God. Adora was absolutely going to die, and it was going to be Catra’s fault. She licked and sucked and Adora, having lost the menus to the waitress, just concentrated on her lockscreen, on the sweet candid of the two of them taken by a friend. She stared at Catra’s lips, the mouth that was currently on her under the table, and she could not forget that making any noise would give them away. But she was twitching, and pleasure was pulsing through her in waves, and her phone buzzed again.

_catra: do you mind if i touch myself?_

_adora: Obviously not_

The mental image revised itself: One hand inside Adora, the other rubbing circles against Catra’s own clit in time with her tongue on Adora’s. That image, along with a quickening of movement from Catra’s tongue, pushed Adora over the edge, and then she was coming, coming, grabbing the edge of her chair and trying to stay composed and awash in pleasure and so, so close to moaning, but she stayed quiet, mostly, though she might have whimpered a little bit, and _God, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

Her vision went fuzzy, but she was pretty sure she was still looking at her phone. She felt Catra gently pulling her fingers out, placing a final kiss on her clit and then moving away. A moment later, she felt a weight and the softness of Catra’s hair: she must have been leaning on Adora’s leg. Adora stuck a hand under the table, and Catra eagerly put her mouth around it, biting down hard with those sharp teeth to stay quiet as she finished herself off.

Then, she laced her fingers in Adora’s, and sat there, under the table, presumably regaining enough composure to emerge. A few minutes later, someone grabbed the mic and started talking, and at that sound, while everyone seemed fairly distracted, Adora texted Catra the all-clear and she emerged, looking a bit tired and very smug but otherwise quite composed. 

“So,” Catra said, grinning, “How are you enjoying the party?”


End file.
